I don’t want to over load this page with all of my previous posts so I will slowly add them over the coming weeks. I just wanted to write something to give you a bit of background. So welcome to any new readers and I hope that any of my previous followers find their way here!!
As every little girl, or sometimes boy, play make believe their imagination projects hopes and aspirations for the future. Some of them realistic, like being a doctor or a nurse, or in my case a shop keeper. Some of them not so realistic, like superheros and fictional characters, like for me Calamity Jane in the wild west (I know, don’t ask, I liked to sing and wanted to drink sarsaparilla).
Our dreams start young and while I didn’t end up with the little fruit and veg shop I imagined or indeed a sarsaparilla drinking cow gurl, one thing I was so certain of was that I would be married with family, a really big family.
Was my need for a family something that was imposed on me because it was “expected”? I don’t know. What I am clear on is that need is real and is like a physical ache that increases the more the dream moves away.
I believe most people don’t get time to reflect and analyze what motivates you into wanting a child. When the urge for children arrives, you respond and the baby arrives within a couple of years – mission fulfilled.
I am lucky that I found my husband young, I have a wonderfully happy marriage. We have ups and downs like anyone but he is my best friend and we have great fun together even after almost 14 years! Getting married big tick! Getting pregnant ….. big fail…. big big fail.
Something niggled at me from early on that having a child was going to be a problem. With irregular periods and early attempts to conceive failing the very real sinking feeling something was wrong set in, in my early 20’s. I wanted some tests. I had to fight because I was so young, but fight I did.
Many months of prodding and poking and all dignity and modesty lost, left on the floor of examination rooms of various doctors offices after asking me to “pop your pants off and get on the bed with you bum on the cushion”. How very dignified!!
I was diagnosed with PCOS and given Chlomid 5 cycles.
Within a couple of cycles we got our positive, but having already been through a couple of very early losses at this point put down to bad egg production. I couldn’t get excited. So much so I insisted on doing the first scan on my own.
I don’t know if there is a sixth sense for women who have been through this or if its just such a primal fear that the worst case scenario is in your head before anything positive has time to grow there. I was terrified. I sat in the waiting room feeling sick and like I could cry! First scan down all looked OK, relief is tangible and inevitably the tears flow, however this is a very early scan and we mustn’t get too excited.
Again second scan, I go alone, terrified that anyone with me would be bad luck. It didn’t make any difference, it never makes any difference. The cheerful mood in the room plummets and I know before they say anything. The silence and the soft clicking of the camera is all i need to confirm we haven’t made it to the magical 12 weeks. No heartbeat, no baby, no hope left at all.
I don’t think we need to share the details after this point, you are likely to know the drill. Mother nature takes over and your body does its job with some help from the NHS.
All that’s left is emptiness. A gaping hole where your baby once was and another crack in your already broken heart. My arms ached for my baby, the grief is consuming and it changes you. Having repeated the process many times now looking back on this one, I wonder how my sanity stays in tact.
It isn’t the baby who never grew you mourn, its the imagined the child he or she would be come, just like when you imagined your job and life as a grown up when you played those games as a child. My imagination had given me a perfect picture of our happy family.
I saw my husband happily lazing on the sofa the baby asleep on his chest, the nursery and sleep deprived cuddles in a rocking chair I would never own. The joy of watching them play with my nieces and nephew. How spoiled they would be by my mother and my family. All of those dreams gone, faded with each failed attempt. It is this that is the hardest to wash away.
Someone once said to me,
“well at least they were early, its not like they were actual babies.”
With stunned silence I composed an answer that didn’t involve a slap to the face, although I wanted it to. They were very much babies to me!
As time has moved on and sadly we haven’t had our miracle, I never thought I would be able to move past it. There is no easy fix for this. Time is all. Some days the blackness I was holding in a scream, but slowly over time those days were less and less.
I had a choice to make. I could continue to torture myself and punish myself for not being able to do the one thing a women should. To feel like such a failure that no one should love me. Or I could try to let it go and move on to appreciate what I do have in my life.
I can honestly say the pain is a lot less now. While I will never truly give up I am happy to let that part of my life go to open up new doors for the future. I NEVER thought I would be saying that
If want to see what happens after things don’t go to plan, stick with me. I will hold your hand so you don’t have to feel alone, I have been there too. You can do this! One day I truly hope you get your miracle as so many do after time and help. Mean while I will be here to lend an ear as others have done for me.
Until next time xoxo.